There were four pines,
Straight, that branched
Out over the hedge
With holes.
High beside
The cement goldfish pond
They stood, near the fence
And alleyway.

From our rows
Of potatoes,
And needed weedings,
A hedge ran across
The back, connecting
The Tehtercotts and Taylors;
We worked the garden
Beneath the line
Of drying clothes,
Throughout our summers,
Beneath the shade,
And the intermitent shadow.
***** blades heeled
Into mounds,
We five posed
For this poem
Half a century ago.

Over the hedge
Carriages and bikes
Rolled between houses
With porches,
And patios,
Leading to lawns.

Near Kevin's *****
A red and white rubber ball
Had landed,
From beyond the hedge.
He turned it over
With a shovel of dirt,
And broke the sod
With his blade.
He was distracted,
Singing us a Beatles song.
But it wouldn't have mattered.

A year ago life was perfect
six months ago life became a hell
today I¨m lost in time and space

I remember dying after seen that smile for the last time
dead stoped my tears, lies stoped my heart

Living now in this earth
my mind floating out in space
waiting for my next death
I¨ll never be prepared
it is what it is
and whatever will be will be.

Black Pearl
Strung Together Secret
Of An Intermitent Doorway
Comes and Goes
Comes and Goes

Dot Dot Dot
One After the Other
Emergent  Hope
Pressed

Birth Secret
Pleasure
Of Another Time

When I was a child, I was told to be good,
We were never the most amazing children forward from conception.
We tried to please. Compliments were scarce, but not unnoticed.

In my disengaging years, I was clever enough in school to pass (all but one or two usually did). I'm into life-long learning. I didn't get to grade two because I was seven.

It was never suggested that I might be the smartest, most prodigious brain in school, any school in any district in North America. No one framed my finger paintings and straw art.

I was okay in sports. Most sports. Never got a Participants' Ribbon. Make the team or get cut. Pass the ball or get benched. My parents never knew the coach's name, usually didn't know where the game was played. Do something else. Practice. Oh, and the medals, trophies and team pictures are lots of fun.
And, you will handle them every so often, and remember...

Later, I found out I wasn't ugly. I've my share of blemishes, but there are plenty of kisses and dates out there to go around. Trust me.
I wasn't described as David, recently stepped off his dais, or, the heartbreak of thousands, the man you want to be in the mirror. Actually, we all look much like yourself... the same.

No one told us to be clever with money. That, if it existed, belonged to my parents. I didn't get any. I did take out some garbage cans for two old girls on Tuesdays, for fifteen cents. Ask Boomers about their jobs. There's lots of stories about earning money.

We belonged to the Age of Entitlement. Grew and matured expecting a good education, a fair wage for a fair job, a planet to live on with some intermitent world peace.
You are entitled to the same, Dear Millenials.
The same way. It works wonders.
And don't tell anyone (especially your kids) they're ******* Royalty.
We know how Majesty ends.

and drops come as if the twilight of a love
from observing a roach
this particular night spent
as a locust or a miriad of intermitent desires
my blue is as usual present
no pleasure felt no more
in the border on infinite space i dwell
to not being a drop for all eternal sound
myriad window and a sigh we echo
only the prize to follow in the lonelly road
finding nothing but "i'ss" I I I followed by I

We start alone, just the two of us.

Awkward glances shyly meet, as we hide our nervous smiles away. The space between us seems eternal. I get close, and slowly look for your hand. We finally meet in common ground. A gaze into your eyes tells you everything you need to know.
Now close your eyes.
Our lips meet and our heartbeats sync in a mix of excitement, adrenaline, and anticipation.
Open your eyes and fall into my arms, wrap them around you, and feel the warmth of my body that aches to know yours.
As we share a tender embrace, my hands start to travel down your slim figure, drawing a detailed map that'll be useful in a not so distant future.
Our breaths get heavy. Intermitent gasps and moans **** the silence in the room. You press your body against mine to feel my excitement.
You take my hand and guide it to your neck, wrap my fingers around it, and take in a deep breath. My other hand is underneath your clothes, and you get lost in the ****** of your body.
You turn to me and take my clothes off.
I rapidly do the same to you.
Our lips only separate to give way to our shirts as they fly accross the room.
Your skin on my skin feels as though velvet has graced me with its touch.
You lay me down and claim control. Our bodies dance together to the harmonies of our muffled moans and hurried kisses. My hands firmly grasping your thighs, wishing you never have to go away.
Your hipnotizing little ******* bounce to the beat of my thrusts.
Our rhythm gets faster, but our song only gets more sonically pleasing. You choke a scream as we reach the end of our perfect symphony, and dig your fingernails into my bare chest.
My fingers have traced distinct pathways along your back.

We lay undressed in bed, covered by the wicked complicity of the magic we've created.
Hands all over, we feel the dread of a goodbye lurking by the door.
Let me enjoy a little longer.